


Ventress and Hunger

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Undead Chosen One [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attachment does not equal love in this fic, Gen, Humor, Jedi Culture Respected, Undead Anakin, Vampire Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin Skywalker hasn't been a vampire for long. There are many people in the galaxy who haven't found out yet. Some discoveries may be more enjoyable than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ventress and Hunger

 

It wasn't often that Anakin and Obi-Wan failed in a mission. Finding their quarry dead in the ruins of a cathedral, neck obviously broken, didn't sit well with either Jedi. The fact the body was still warm and they'd clearly missed their objective by so short a window of time only made the sting worse. A familiar presence caught Obi-Wan's attention the same moment the scent snagged Anakin's.

 

 

“Ventress,” Obi-Wan hissed.

Two things happened immediately. He felt rather than saw Anakin merging with the shadows along the wall, and Ventress appeared out of nowhere, driving her bloody blade vertically to cut the older Jedi in two.

Obi-Wan easily caught her blow, arching an eyebrow in a smile. “Imagine meeting you here.”

“ _Master_ Kenobi,” she taunted back, retreating a step only to snap her wrist to bring her second saber to bear.

Obi-Wan took a graceful, almost dancing step out of reach and gave her his modified Soresu salute.

He could tell from her tone and expression that she'd been thinking of a greeting for some time now. Perhaps since their last battle. He looked forward to seeing what she'd come up with.

She closed again, lightsabers weaving crimson lines in the dim light of the moon. “After all this time I'd—”

Pale eyes widened as they took in the multiple punctures and bruising on his neck, her carefully-crafted words falling away, forgotten. “Are those  _bite marks_ ?” Her gaze met his.

Obi-Wan hadn't considered how Anakin's feeding patterns might look to the outside universe, and given the look of shock on Ventress' face, it struck him as highly amusing.

A new way to yank her chain? Yes please. He showed a few teeth in his next smile and laughed at her with his eyes.

A light blur of motion, and Anakin stood directly behind Ventress. “They're mine,” he whispered in her ear.

Obi-Wan sensed the jolt of adrenaline that spun Ventress underneath Obi-Wan's blade and to the side just in time to miss Anakin's.

She stared at his former apprentice from a new, safer vantage point, looking unnerved.

“Think you can sneak up on me, Skywalker?” she snarled.

Anakin scoffed, met Obi-Wan's glance. “Now I  _know_ I can.”

Obi-Wan could feel his eagerness.

Maybe  _this_ time, with Anakin's new body, they could actually take her down.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had never paid much attention to Ventress' smell before.

That didn't keep him from knowing  _instantly_ what that scent meant the second he caught whiff of it. 

Now he stood with Obi-Wan, with plenty of time before sunrise, fed and every sense flooding him with information.

He wanted to take on Ventress alone. To test himself, to see just what he could do.

_Please understand._   
His Master's head tilted just a centimeter to the side, his gaze scrutinizing.

Anakin lowered his shields to him.

His Master, finding the impulse wasn't driven by arrogance, gave him a nod and stepped back, the blue blade withdrawing into its hilt.

Ventress recovered her composure. “Are you a princess in need of rescuing, Obi-Wan? A few marks of possession and now Skywalker is the Master?” Her gaze raked over Anakin's colorless body. “He looks rather ill. Maybe he should permit his love-slave to help fight after all.”

Anakin's temper flared, but he sensed no annoyance from his friend, only that sneaking delight Obi-Wan took in rattling Ventress' cage. Anakin forced himself to relax as he heard his Master's purred response.

“Come, Darling. Your envy is showing.”

She'd never once made  _him_ angry.

But almost every time, he succeeded in sweeping the feet out from under her own poise.

Score.

Once again, his careless tone sparked the rage it always did, and Ventress launched herself forward with her signatory hoarse scream.

Only Anakin wasn't there anymore.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan leaned against one of the crumbling pillars, managing to look like an attendee at a high-society party with only a passing interest in the proceedings. He hooked his lightsaber to his belt, crossed his arms, and enjoyed the show.

He'd learned to not try to follow Anakin's movements with his eyes. That way lay severe eye-pain. Instead, he tracked Ventress, and made as much sense of the blurs as he could by generalizing.

Obi-Wan had never before seen Ventress fight for her life.

It was quite the display.

She looked like a cornered, harried animal.

Unable to take more, she sprang up and backwards, landing on a collapsed wall.

Anakin came to a stop on the floor beneath and didn't move.

Obi-Wan could see why he'd chosen  _that_ spot.

Beams of moonlight managed to filter through to that part of the floor, bathing his former apprentice in their silver glow. Slowly, Anakin turned his head to look up at Ventress.

Obi-Wan watched in fond amusement.

Anakin had always leaned a little towards dramatic entrances and reveals.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure if being undead made his former Padawan  _more_ inclined to them, or whether it was just that the present opportunity was too priceless to pass up.

In this instance, Obi-Wan  _may_ have been enjoying it as much as Anakin.

Ventress was staring at the younger knight in open disbelief, Obi-Wan completely forgotten.

Not a muscle twitched in Anakin's stone frame. Not voluntary, not autonomic. If it hadn't been for the color in his hair and clothes, he could have been a piece of the statuary lying about.

“What sorcery is this?” Ventress rasped.

Anakin smiled, revealing his fangs.

Ventress hissed, her eyes narrowing, sabers ready. “What are you and why do you look like Skywalker?”

“Oh, come,” Obi-Wan chided. “Even a cursory scan in the Force tells you it's him.”

“It tells me he's  _dead_ !”

“Really?” Obi-Wan feigned surprised gratitude. “How could I have missed it? Thank  _goodness_ you were here to tell me. Anakin, I have shocking news. Perhaps you'd better sit down. Ventress says you died.”

Anakin looked up at him in mock discovery. “Could that be why my heart doesn't beat, I don't breathe, and I seem to lack body heat?”

“It all makes sense now. I'm beside myself.”

Anakin prowled towards Obi-Wan, his eyes lit with an eerie glow. He paused at Obi-Wan's shoulder. “I have no doubt we're greatly in Ventress' debt for her insight; but Master, if I'm dead, why am I talking, fighting, and drinking your blood?”

Anakin's fingers brushed against the wounds on Obi-Wan's neck, and his gaze flicked back to Ventress.

Obi-Wan frowned in concentration, savoring the new startled look on Ventress' face at that last claim. “Oh dear. Are you doing those things? I hadn't noticed. Well, Ventress? Can you enlighten us?”

“You  _let_ him  _drink_ your  _blood?_ ”

“Apparently you weren't quite clear enough on that point,” Obi-Wan reprimanded Anakin. “Do try to speak more precisely next time.”

“I live to please, Master,” Anakin lilted back, feet carrying him towards Ventress, his gait fluid. Bizarrely graceful.

“ _Enough_ !” Ventress bellowed. She took an involuntary step back, and Anakin froze again. “ _What. Kind. Of. Monster. Are. You_ ?”

Anakin's gaze locked on hers, all of the false innocence gone as he took a tiny, menacing step forward. “The kind that stepped out of nightmares. Even dead, I won't let you live in peace.”

“ _Kenobi_ .”

Obi-Wan was surprised to hear just a hint of panic in the Sith acolyte's voice.

“Call him off.”

“Who, me? I thought you said I wasn't the dominant one. Rather specifically.” Obi-Wan kept his voice bored, even as he worried.

There were just a  _few_ things concerning him with all of this, fun though it might be.

Chief amongst them was  _not_ concern about the rumors that Ventress might start.

No. Other things bothered him.

He could sense possessiveness about Anakin. It was an undercurrent, something that manifested in the tiniest rasp in his voice when he'd said  _they're mine_ .

And again, just a moment ago. Stronger this time.

His former Padawan had always been possessive and over-protective.

Never... quite so obviously.

Obi-Wan suspected it had to do with becoming Anakin's main food source. The ancient literature  _had_ insinuated that might have consequences.

_I may need to establish that I don't belong to him._

Second, the brush of Anakin's fingers.

Obi-Wan did not  _like_ being touched. He'd grown up in a culture where physical contact wasn't one of the methods of conveying affection or concern. If it was ever used, it was a sham.

False.

Hollow.

Part of a mission, and often meaning the  _opposite_ of what it seemed _._ A con.

When used by outsiders on Jedi, it almost always meant manipulation.

Ulterior motives.

Jedi culture was different at its very core.

All of their deepest relationships and emotions were communicated through the Force. Subtle pressures against minds, shifting in color and texture. There was so much more room for expression in that realm. A hug could mean a hundred different things, and often it was impossible to figure out just  _what_ . Using the Force to cradle another soul was so much more precise.

Impossible to misread.

Private.

Something others couldn't see, couldn't feel—

Something shared just between the two interacting.

Something infinitely precious.

Those reassurances didn't bring confusion, didn't hide intent. They  _revealed_ intent. Reveled in accuracy.

A million shades of meaning, far more than words could ever hope to convey, and without the possibility of being misunderstood.

_Unlike_ words. Unlike touch.

Obi-Wan craved these unseen expressions, used their presence to center himself. It's what it was like, being raised in the Temple. Continuous reinforcement of care, attention, understanding. He couldn't remember a time when there  _hadn't_ been someone caressing his Force signature. His earliest memories were of Yoda nurturing him in that way.

He needed that contact like he needed oxygen.

Qui-Gon had shielded Obi-Wan's mind with that sort of tenderness for over a decade.

It's what Obi-Wan had been doing for Anakin ever since the boy had become his apprentice.

But Anakin... didn't... seem to...  _quite_ ...

_Get_ it. It was almost as though Obi-Wan was speaking an incomprehensible tongue. One Anakin didn't even realize  _was_ a language to figure out. He couldn't seem to pick it out of the background noise of his mind.

Anakin's basic formative years took place with people who  _couldn't_ touch his mind in any of the countless ways that Obi-Wan sought context and comfort in.

His Mother had used physical contact to express pride, love, worry, fear, encouragement, grief, assurance, praise; to impart courage, express forgiveness, or to simply help him fall asleep at night or wake him up in the morning. Even silent companionship found expression there.

It seemed Anakin and Shmi had a touch for  _everything_ , and it had been a complete invasion of Obi-Wan's personal space.

In the first days of Anakin's apprenticeship, Obi-Wan had been overwhelmed by Anakin's need for physical contact. It had taken them some time to sort things out: that Obi-Wan didn't  _like_ or  _want_ or  _need_ hugs, and that his stiff discomfort wasn't rejecting Anakin as a  _person..._

It had still caused the occasional misunderstanding in the later years, but Anakin had been able to give Obi-Wan the space he needed, and Obi-Wan had tried to relax a little about the shoulder-clapping, elbowing, and occasional embrace.

And to understand that Anakin couldn't provide him with quite the level of Force communing he was used to.

Obi-Wan had learned to accept that.

They'd found middle ground.

The thing of it was...

Undead Anakin had more difficulty seeing personal space bubbles than living Anakin had.

_And_ that  _was quite bad enough._

He could sense, could  _see_ , the self-doubt Anakin was struggling through under the weight of his newfound death. This wasn't an easy transition for him. So far, Obi-Wan had suffered through numerous hugs, fingers being run over his forearm, and the  _very_ unfortunate nuzzling connected with feeding.

He loved Anakin. He wanted to be what the boy needed, especially now.

But if something didn't change, he was going to snap.

They'd had years to discover that Obi-Wan could  _not_ be trained to like hugs, even though he'd  _tried,_ in the same way Anakin couldn't seem to learn the mind-language the Jedi used. He still interpreted them as cold, no matter how much Obi-Wan had tried to explain.

There it was again. The insufficiency of words.

Undead Anakin had  _so_ much self-loathing, and was returning to that place where he'd found reassurance as a child.

To insist on physical distance, when his spirit hurt so much...

_I have to find some way to gently divert him, without feeding his fear that he's not good enough._

If he didn't come up with a way to do it kindly, the explosion was going to damage  _both_ of them.

But the most immediate of Obi-Wan's concerns in  _this_ moment?

Anakin's focus on Ventress.

It was shifting.

Obi-Wan, using his years of practice, kept his face in the cast he'd chosen for it. Projected those emotions in the Force, kept his eyes in accord.

Anakin's desire to fluster Ventress was morphing into something much more intense. He'd wanted to see how his new body worked.

He was very distracted from that at the moment. Saber technique and Force use were the farthest things from his mind.

Obi-Wan recognized his posture from those early days. Predator eyeing prey.

Hunger.

Ventress didn't blink, didn't so much as glance away from Anakin's stare.

Obi-Wan knew just how unnerving that stare was.

He'd received it a few times, in those first terrifying days.

Make that weeks.

_But he didn't actually want me dead. He wanted my blood, but not my death._

With Ventress...

He wanted her dead.

_And_ there was blood.

A massiff, inching closer, staring you in the eye, a challenge, a threat, a  _promise_ —

Just when was Obi-Wan supposed to interfere?

If at all?

It wasn't like Ventress was either an innocent  _or_ unarmed  _or_ incapable of defending herself...

And it wasn't like Anakin was in need at the moment. He was fed. As safe as he was going to get.

But if he let loose on an enemy, allowed himself to resort to that level of savage violence, what would it do to Anakin's view of himself?

And given his anger issues...

Would it nudge him towards the ability to do something similar to someone he loved?

Obi-Wan's heart quivered. No. Anakin could never hurt Ahsoka or Padme, no matter  _what_ he might have done to an enemy beforehand.

Never.

Ventress tapped her wristband.

In the ceiling above, explosions launched stone down onto the two Jedi.

Obi-Wan, caught off guard, just barely managed to throw up a Force shield around himself before the rubble hit.

 

* * *

 

Anakin edged closer to Ventress' place of retreat.

He'd intentionally been seeing if he could scare her, but the closer he looked at her eyes....

He could see the tiny blood vessels inside them. So delicate, so thin. Flexing, as tiny rivers massaged through them—

His gaze shifted to her neck, drawn there by instinct.

The throbbing pulse in her throat blocked out every other sound, smell—

He thought that maybe they were talking.

His prey and his Master.

He wasn't sure.

Maybe it had been a lifetime ago.

Just how wrong would it be to drain her dry? If he let her keep her lightsabers, she wouldn't be  _unarmed._ It wouldn't be like he'd killed a  _prisoner_ , someone who'd  _surrendered._

Maybe she suspected some of what was passing in his mind. Her heart's rhythm quickened to a frantic drumbeat.

Calling, calling calling.

He swallowed.

The blood's pull was strong, but he could feel Obi-Wan's in his veins, keeping his mind from edging into insanity, keeping him strong. Healthy.

Whole.

And compared to Obi-Wan's, Ventress' blood was sludge.

However, there was a lot  _of_ it. He could take  _far_ more from her than he allowed himself to take from Obi-Wan.

He could feel...

_Full_ ...

He could almost taste Ventress' fear.

She'd never been afraid of him before.

_That_ made her blood attractive too. A  _prize_ . He knew the fear would give it a tang that Obi-Wan's, given willingly, never would.

Anakin's mouth ached. He—

A massive piece of stone struck his forehead, snapping his head back.

He caught a glimpse of relief in Ventress' eyes before he collapsed, buried beneath an astonishing amount of rock and dust.

 

* * *

 

By the time Obi-Wan freed himself from stone, Ventress was long gone.

Annoying, yes.

Abnormal,  _no._

_We'll get her one day,_ he told himself. It didn't really ease the smart of defeat.

Twice in one mission. And that's  _if_ you didn't count the maze fiasco.

Obi-Wan worked his way over to where his former Padawan had been standing.

Just how powerful had the charges Ventress placed been?

They must have been  _massive_ .

Obi-Wan didn't know whether to be annoyed or flattered.

“Anakin? Anakin! Can you hear me?” Reaching into the Force, he lifted the first layer of jagged stone and flung it aside. Then another. And another.

“Sweet Force, how far down there are you?”

He felt Anakin stirring, sensed pain, sensed frustration—

And then the rocks still trapping him exploded outwards. Obi-Wan barely diverted their fury, keeping them from striking him.

Peering down as the dust cleared, he found a broken statue.

Anakin's gaze glared up at him.

Rage.

Obi-Wan paused. He wasn't quite sure Anakin actually saw  _him._

He traced a soothing pattern across Anakin's Force-signature, making his own identity clear. Sending reassurance.

Calm.

Acceptance.

Anakin blinked, his eyes refocused, and his expression shifted to one of disgust. “I let her get away.”

“I wouldn't say  _that_ ,” Obi-Wan countered, crouching beside him to inspect the damage. “She has a knack for escaping.”

Anakin flexed his fingers, his ankles, rolled his shoulders, and sat up. “I let myself get distracted. I could have taken her this time, Obi-Wan, but I let her blood distract me.”

His voice sounded bitter.

Full of shame.

“Even after you've given me yours, told me I can have it whenever I need it. I— I still wanted hers,” he finished in a whisper.

Obi-Wan could sense his abhorrence. The fear that Obi-Wan would hate him.

The living Jedi surrounded Anakin's mind with a warm blanket of Force-pressure and hoped his former Padawan would understand it. “You liked my cooking, but you used to crave eating out at restaurants too. Why would I be offended about _this_ , when I wasn't about _that_?”

“But this is more personal.”

Uh-oh.

Minefield ahead.

Anakin caught the momentary glitch.

Of course he did.

_So perceptive,_ Obi-Wan mused, half proud, half rueful.

“Do you remember what we discussed?” Obi-Wan reached out a hand to pull him up.

Though he certainly didn't need it, Anakin accepted the help. “Probably not.”

Obi-Wan struggled to hide his instant smile and for the most part succeeded.

“You're concerned about my health. Right now, I can take giving you what you need. However, if I'm injured or sick, I need to know you're going to be able to accept help from someone else. Perhaps even a professional.”

Anakin's face twisted in disgust.

Trouble. Definitely trouble.

“Anakin, a few days ago, you reacted in the opposite way,” Obi-Wan pointed out, voice and reminder soft. Nonthreatening.

Anakin's face went very still and he forgot to blink.

After several long moments, Anakin relaxed. “You're right. It's so easy to get caught up, Obi-Wan. There are all of these...  _imperatives_ ... in my brain that weren't there before, and they feel so  _normal_ that I forget they weren't always there. And they  _shift_ . One minute they're pulling me one direction, the next, another. I don't even notice.”

“Anakin. You read those old legends. You  _know_ the claims they made about those turned. So far, you have defied so many of their expectations. Your control over yourself is impressive, to say the least.”

“Not like yours. I've never seen control like yours.”

Open admiration made Obi-Wan uncomfortable. He hated a spotlight.  _I'm so much less than I should be. Everyone_ must  _see it. It's glaring. Can't miss it._ “You know the flattery isn't necessary, Anakin. Let's get out of here. I think our target's body isn't trapped under rock. At least we can retrieve that to take back to civilization with us. See if we can talk our way into an alliance in spite of Ventress' sabotage.”  
Anakin turned to look. “We were supposed to bring him back alive.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan made a face.

Anakin, looking and sounding so innocent, offered, “Maybe they won't notice the difference.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
